To Be Loved
by Callisto Callispi
Summary: On the night of her wedding, Isabelle's eyes open to the brutal and erotic world of her homosexual English husband. WILL NOT BE UPDATED. ONE SHOT.


**Disclaimers**: I do not hold any rights to _Braveheart_.

**Author's Notes**: It's two o'clock in the morning. I just consumed an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids...including the sugar. I write whatever comes to mind. Please note that the story will mostly follow the movie.

**Warning**: This story is rated R for heterosexual sex scenes. This isn't so terribly graphic compared with the seedier stuff out there, but please don't read if you are, well, under seventeen.

* * *

**To Be Loved**  
_By Callisto Callispi_

**_The Year of Our Lord, 1308_**

I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to calm my drumming heart.

"My lady..."

I look up at Nicolette to find her staring at me with concern. She touches my arm with the familiarity that only she can offer.

"Do not be afraid," she assures quietly. "It will hurt, but try to enjoy it. Envision the face of Lancelot du Lac, and caress the body of Apollo. Now stand. Let me help you undress."

I do so numbly and my eyes gaze about the room. It is a beautiful chamber, spacious and lavishly decorated. But it is all English. I narrow my eyes, struggling not to weep out of homesickness and fear. I knew for many years that I would be married to him. But in my heart, he is still a stranger. And with the rumors darting about him like a poison-tipped arrow, I can only wonder...

"Nicolette," I say quietly.

She looks up as she slides down my skirt.

"Surely the rumors about my husband are false..."

Nicolette stops momentarily. She stares into my eyes, and I want to scream in anger and despair for I know the answer.

"It will hurt. Only the first time, my lady," she says quietly, evading my question all together. "But once you conceive, you will not have to attend his bed for a year."

"Nicolette." My voice cracks with anxiety and dread. "What if he does not know how to take women?"

The question surprises her. Her hands snags on my hem. Her eyes were wide with unspoken horror at the very thought. _I know what you are thinking, Nicolette. There is much more pain in loving a sodomite who only knows how to take men._

Nicolette helps me into a sheer nightgown and then continues to brush out the tangles in my hair. I sit down on a cushioned chair in front of my silver mirror and stared wonderingly at my reflection. I brush my fingers down the skin of my cheek, slightly pleased with the pink blush that tints my face. I had been scrubbed and washed for almost an hour until my skin was glowing pink, before and after the wedding.

"He will know," she assures confidently. "Do you truly believe that the proud Edward the Longshanks will send his son off to the marriage bed without the knowledge of how to properly impregnate a woman? It would befoul his pride to see his son in the state of such ignorance."

I nod slowly. "Yes. Perhaps you are correct. Yes."

Dear, Nicolette. What would I do without her? I watch her as she prepares to leave. With a smile, she kisses my cheek with sisterly affection and whispers assurances in my ear. She makes me laugh, this woman. But when she spoke of me slipping out of bed and sneaking into a certain lord's bedchambers, I chided her. But she merely laughed.

"He is a handsome man. And God knows that he will be a better lover than Edward."

"Is he a part of my husband's circle?" I ask dryly.

Nicolette shakes her head. Amusement twinkles in her eyes.

"You are a wicked, Godless girl, Nicolette. You have no right to step inside the church without a priest attending your overdue confessions," I say with a smile.

She laughs, and I do as well. But the silence that follows is tense. I stare into my silver mirror -- a gift from His Highness, Edward the Longshanks -- with regret. My father is Philippe le Bel, one of the fairest men in France. I have been told many times that I inherited my father's beauty. And though I am a good and true follower of God, I cannot stop regretting that my beauty is to be wasted on a prince who will never, ever look at me with adoration and love.

"Why is that I am not even allowed love, Nicolette?" I whisper.

"You are loved by me, my lady," she replies quietly, sadly.

I kiss her wrist gently. "My sister. I thank you for it. But...am I cursed to live without the love of a husband? Every night, I prayed to God for happiness. No, not even that. I prayed to God for peace. Peace for my country, peace for my father, and peace for my soul. Am I selfish to pray for myself? Is this God's punishment for me, that I wed a sodomite who will never love me as I wish to be loved?"

Nicolette sweeps down onto her knees in front of me and clasps my shaking hands with her own. "Do not say that. You are the most unselfish, God-fearing woman that I know. Do not think of this a punishment, my lady. Assume it as a blessing in disguise."

I tighten my grip on Nicolette's hands then let her go. "He will be here soon."

She nods then turns to leave. But as she reaches the door, she stares back at me with a look full of love and compassion. My dear friend. May God grant your soul peace as well.

Quietly, I slip out of the transparent gown that Nicolette insisted I wear. She had high hopes that Edward would become aroused by the sight of his gentle new wife in this delicate silk and become more eager to please. But I know the man who is my husband, for though I try to conceal it, I am observant. He and I rarely speak unless ordered to. During our few, chaperoned conversations, his voice is vacant with forced courtesy. When I look into his eyes, I know what he is feeling for me: disgust and contempt. He considers women below him. Thus, he takes men. I can sense the tightness in his posture when he is with women. It is as if he is walking about with muddy cows. Women degrade him. What a tragedy for now, he is married to one.

I bite my lip angrily as I crawl onto the bed and slip in underneath the blankets. I bend my knees towards my naked breasts and wrap my arms around my legs as I wonder about what I am to do. I am a chaste woman, unlike a certain fair-haired Nicolette I know. In all of my years, I have never allowed myself to be touched by any man except for father and brothers. Not even my male servants dared to even graze a finger upon my naked skin, be it my hand or arm. And, most importantly, I was an obedient daughter and never let my eyes wander.

At times, the audacity of my father's court appalled me. Naturally, Nicolette thrived in those scandal-filled halls, and even more naturally, I made myself scarce. I can count the times that I attended my father's extravagant masquerades and balls with one hand. Usually, I would wander into my own chambers and read by candlelight while sitting near an open window. I always adored the view of the night-sky. I cherished the rolling landscape of my dear kingdom of France.

Nicolette always told me that I was much too independent to be born a woman. She said that given the chance, I would fly away from this sin-filled world and up to the clouds to read and converse with the old philosophers. I always laughed at her accusations of this unwomanly independence.

_"Non, Nicolette. I just wish to be a loved wife and a loving mother. That is all."_

I would not be the loved wife. But, unless I am barren (_God forbid it!_ I think as I cross myself), I still have the chance to see at least half of my dream fulfilled.

My breathing shortens as the door to the chamber creaks open. He is here. He...is here.

I do not move from this fetal position as I hear the flutter of clothes. He grunts and curses incoherently but manages to sound princely all the same.

Perhaps I am fooling myself. Perhaps he is not a sodomite. Perhaps he does not like women as much as other men do. With this new hope, I turn onto my back and sit up, shyly pressing the covers to my breast.

Edward, my husband, stares at me with wide eyes for a moment. My attempt at a smile fails miserably. He does not look at me, lust-filled or eager. No. He stares on at me in horror. I am once again the muddy cow. Heat pricks the corner of my eyes.

He does not move. His eyes are still wide, his jaw slack. I remain still as well. I am numbed by despair and trepidation.

It's strange, the human emotion. It's nothing short of a wonder at how certain hopes can bolster one's thoughts and how despair can blind the heart into complete blackness. At that moment, as Edward stared at me as if I were the bloody corpse of a rat, all of Nicolette's reassurances fled from my mind. Those old fears returned. _What if he should flee now? What if he somehow annuls this marriage? What if he does not know how to take a woman? What if I am barren?_

"You...are a virgin?"

Shakily, I nod. He is far from Lancelot. Even further from Apollo. I can still see the frightened boy in his face. Perhaps he can see the frightened girl in mine.

He nods then continues taking off his clothes. I watch him despite myself. He is a slender lad, almost as delicate as a girl. My heart plunges. He is almost as slender as I am. My eyes widen as he slides his pants and the undergarments beneath them down his legs. He is to penetrate me with that? But...it is so withered! Like a dead slug! How could he even hope to push past the wall of my virginity with that? Have I married an incompetent as well as a sodomite?

He flushes visibly from his boyish face to his small, delicate chest. I try to smile invitingly, but I think I only managed a twisted snarl. He lowers his eyes for a brief moment at the empty spot on the bed next to me. Reluctantly, he sits down on the edge and sighs.

Quietly, I caress his smooth back with my hands before placing light kisses on his skin. He stiffens, and I back away, unsure of what to do.

"I wish to finish this quickly," he says in a clipped tone.

I remove my hands immediately.

"Just lie there for a moment while I prepare for you. Don't say anything. I do not wish to be interrupted."

I nod. Prepare? Prepare for what?

Then, my prince closes his eyes. His right hand makes its way to his withered manhood. He runs his slender fingers down the length of his flesh, breath quickening as his own touches become more demanding, more rushed. He throws his head back as a languid smile slips upon his lips. What is he thinking about? His golden hair shines like the sun in the candlelight -- a poisoned sun that cruelly saps out the life of everything near it. I want to retch. I realize what he is doing now as his hands surround his manhood. He is pleasing himself!

I watched in horror as his hands moved up and down violently. His face was skewed as if he were in pain. He moans quietly. His lips move slowly as he mutters incomprehensible curses and words of passion.

My breath tightens. My face goes pale. The world spins around me. He is pleasing himself in front of me. _Bastard. Cruel bastard!_ He is pleasing himself because his wife apparently cannot. The desperate urge to stab him in the heart consumes my thoughts. But no. I will not. He deserves worse though nothing can compare with the horror that I feel my own bosom now.

He stares at me now. His brow his beaded with sweat. "Remove...the blanket. Oh, God. Lie...down and spread your legs. Now. Quickly," he gasps.

I stare at him then at his manhood. My breath catches in my throat. What used to be a withered slug is now hard and upright. He still strokes himself but with less urge. His manhood throbs in his hand and shines in its own juices. And he is to take me with it. Never before had I wanted to jump out of the tower window and throw myself at God's mercy as I do now.

"Damn it all, woman! What are you waiting for?" he yells, his breaths quick and hard. "If you are my wife, I need to get you with a child, heaven help me."

I scramble to do as he says. As soon as I feel the soft silk of the blanket on my back and spread my legs, Edward pounces on top of me and plunges his stiff shaft into me without warning.

I bite back a cry of utter pain. But he, uncaring, slams mercilessly into me.

_It hurts. God, bless me with your grace. It hurts so badly. I feel as if I will die. Please help me, my shepherd. Please._

But I receive no answer except for the intolerable burning in my mid-section. Tears flood my eyes and seep down onto the pillow. My mouth is open, dry with noiseless screams. My body is numb and frozen underneath my prince. My core aches. I would have felt no more pain if someone drove a stake through my hands.

"No. No, damn it. Not after all of that..."

He violates me still even as I feel his manhood begin to deflate. The pain lessens but the memory of how he took my virginity is freshly branded onto my mind. _Heaven have mercy on me. Bless me with a child this union. Please._

He moves more desperately inside of me. He pleads with himself to continue. He does not even acknowledge my pain-filled eyes. Instead, he closes his own and mutters again. Quickly, he regains his strength and begins to love me in his brutal, uncaring way. My tears fall in torrents.

"Oh...oh, heaven."

_No. Not heaven. Hell. You have cast me into hell, my cruel husband. Hell._

"P-Piers..."

My eyes widen. Piers?

My husband suddenly shudders over me. I wince as I feel a warm jet of liquid stream into me. He is finished.

He lies there on top of me for what seems like a horrible eternity. I wonder blearily what I should do if he falls asleep. I jerk my lower body, pulling his manhood out of myself, restraining the urge to kick him off the bed. He had just called a man's name in the heat of passion. A man!

Without a word, Edward picks himself up off my body. He stares down at me, dazed, as if he can't remember who I am. As soon as he stumbles back onto his feet, I wipe my eyes with the heel of my hand and close my aching legs. How I wish for a bath. But I can't move. My whole body is tingling with pain and humiliation. He called a man's name...not mine.

"I apologize if I hurt you," he mumbles as he begins to dress himself. "I'm...not used to women, you see. It would have been better if you didn't come to me as a virgin --"

"You expect me to come to you soiled, my lord?" I bite out spitefully. "Princesses, especially I, do not even look at a man who is not her husband. And you expect me to come to you as a wanton?"

His hands flag for a minute. "Oh."

I cover my breasts in shame and lift my body gingerly as I make my way under the covers and pull them resolutely under my chin. I refuse to look at him. He has resumed dressing.

"You know," he starts suddenly, "I didn't bloody ask for this marriage."

I laugh hollowly. And I had? "I apologize if I have displeased you, my lord."

"I know you are angry with me --"

"Who is Piers?"

He jerks in surprise. Though I do not see him, I hear the sudden ruffle of cloth.

"How do you..."

Tears began to prick my eyes once more, and despite my greatest efforts to control myself, my voice shakes. "You called his name, my lord. While we consummated our marriage. Or does my lord not remember?"

He was silent for a moment. Then he replied coldly, "You lie."

"I am a God-fearing woman. I do not lie. Who is this **man**?"

He pulls down the gold-threaded sleeve of his jacket. "No one."

"I am your wife. I --"

He stops me with a cold glare. I feel myself flush. "Yes, madam, you are my wife. But nowhere in the Bible do I read that a man confides in said woman completely."

I lower my eyes. "Yes, my lord."

"Good."

He pulls on his boots and runs his fingers through his soft, curling hair, mumbling about wine.

"Will you leave, my lord?"

He nods curtly and walks resolutely towards the door. But just before he opens it, he turns back to me with an apologetic grimace on his face. "You dislike me, I'm sure. I assure you: you need not attend my bed no more than once every week. If God wills it, he will bestow a son upon you quickly. I must implore that you do not engage in intimate relations with other men until you conceive."

His words stab me like a thousand knives. For a moment, I cannot speak. But anger wins over. It gives me strength. "I am a good and loyal wife, my lord," I say quietly. "You will not find me with anyone but you."

He is not touched. Instead, he grows more furious. "God has abandoned me. I do not wish for a pure woman, madam. My only wish is for a vessel that will produce a son for this Godforsaken kingdom. You do not deserve me, and I do not deserve you."

He feels guilt, I know. He is guilty that I am who I am. He knows that my loyalty and chastity will badger his mind. Fine. "This marriage is God's will, my lord. It would be wise not to question His judgment."

He runs his fingers through his hair once more. "I am sure you are correct, madam."

"I thank you."

He moves to walk outside but then stops himself once more. He looks over his shoulder and says quietly, "I wish for this marriage to bring certain peace to you, madam. But I warn you: do not speak of what we have said this night. Especially about Piers."

I nod.

"Good night, madam."

He finally leaves, closing the door softly behind him. I rest my head on the pillow under me and stare at the decorated curtained windows. The illustration of five golden lions tearing apart three gazelles greets me. Barbarians, the lot of them.

I do not know for how long I lied awake that night. For a long time, I'm sure, for I was awake when the candle wax melted and my flame flickered. My husband did not return to me that night. I did not even glimpse his face for two days.

**-x-x-**

The months pass by slowly, and still, I am without a child. If not for Nicolette, I would think that I would have gone mad by now. She is the only one who understands the pain I endure every day when I sit with my husband while he drinks with his court, laughs with his men, and shoots with his favorites. I know they jeer at me. Those closest to Edward know of his preference for men. How they must laugh at me when I am not in the same room with them.

I am afraid every waking moment in this Godforsaken land. Men of court stare at me as if I were a prize boar. My English lady-in-waitings tell gruesome stories of queens and princess that failed to conceive. Edward the Longshanks's eyes linger far to much on my waist. I feel like a lost child wandering in a dark wilderness habituated by rabid wolves.

And every day, I am humiliated unknowingly. In his father's presence, Edward is vigilant in focusing his attention upon me, painful as it is for him. But when Longshanks leaves, his eyes wander until they meet a certain man's. I recognize him. I have seen him many times in Edward's court. He accompanies my husband almost everywhere. Two months later, I am told his name. Piers Gaveston.

**-x-x-**

He grunts as he spills his seed into me. Again, I beseech God for a son. I would happily bear the burden of pregnancy than be with this man again.

A few minutes later, after he catches his breath, he wordlessly pulls himself off me. I quickly wipe my eyes dry, hoping that he hadn't noticed my pain. Let him take me quickly and get this over with. I dread each week. We hardly look at each other, barely speak, and never touch, unless it is in this bed.

"Let us hope that you have conceived this time, madam," are his parting words as he leaves me alone in the dark.

Every time with my husband, my body aches as if he had not only taken me but battered and beat me to the bone. I wish Nicolette were here. She would wash me and comfort me until I fell asleep. But alas, she is not allowed in these chambers until morning. Thankfully, I feel blissful sleep taking me over. I sigh quietly and close my eyes.

**-x-x-**

_He lays me down onto the small cot as he kisses my neck. His lips are rough and weather-beaten from all those cold days in the Scottish highlands, but I would wish them no other way. His callused hands, hard but strong from the sword, run down my body, caressing every inch of my skin. A small sigh of happiness escapes my lips. _

_Metal clinks as he removes his belt. Gently, he spreads my legs and bends down to kiss the inside of my thigh. I moan as a wave of heat rushes through my body. The tips of my fingers tingle. My toes curl as his tongue laps out to caress the most sensitive nub of my body, the place where my own husband had ignored because of his own desperation. _

_What is this feeling coursing through my body? Is this what it is like to desire? _

_His tongue moves with complete abandon. Wave after wave of pleasure sweeps through me like an army. My own juices begin to coat my womanhood. My insides throb with impatience. Something builds inside of me, like blocks of stone stacking on top of each other. Quietly, I beg him to take me. I plead that he grant me this pleasure. _

_He gently pulls away from me and trails a hot path of sensual kisses from my abdomen and slowly up to my neck. My legs rise and wrap around his muscled torso, urging him down. He resists for a few seconds and I ask him why. _

_Warm blue eyes stare into mine. I choke on my own breath. How is a man so fierce on the battleground so gentle with me? _

_"Because I wish to take you sweetly and without pain, my lady," he answers huskily. "You deserve no less." _

_Tears cloud my vision though I try valiantly to hold them back. My breath shudders as his lips caress my forehead. _

_When he penetrates me finally, I feel no pain. A moan escapes my lips as my hips rise to meet his. He begins slowly at first, allowing me to familiarize myself with his length. My body answers quickly and protests this languid pace. He replies by moving more quickly, more desperately. _

_I was not a virgin when I came to him. But while my body had been taken, my soul hadn't. In a way, this man on top of me is my first time. I reach my climax with startling vividness and pleasure. Surely the angels have blessed me with their touch. This sensation is almost heavenly. I feel as if God had fed me the wine of his domain as this pleasure courses through out my inexperienced body, from the tips of my toes to my fingers and my chest. Without my knowing, my abdomen rises as he drives through me with maddening fury. _

_"I love you," I whisper before I place my lips on his. _

**-x-x-**

Since that night, I had no more dreams of the blue-eyed stranger. But I can still remember his voice and the way he told me that he wished no pain for me. I can still remember the concern in his voice. I can still remember the immense affection that I felt for that man that night. Is that man real? Is he human or divine?

Nicolette and books are my only refuge now in this place that Edward the Longshanks calls his England. Nicolette because she is my sun in this ever-dreary place. Books because I wish for knowledge. My husband pays me no heed and does not ever order me to remain ignorant. He never commands me to do anything.

Like a dutiful wife, I accompany my husband almost wherever he goes. I know that he appreciates the concern that I show him, but I know that he also detests it. He cannot act as he wishes around his men with me there, piously holding a leather-bound book in my hands. I always shy into corners to try to allow him some privacy, but he knows that I am always there.

I walk with Nicolette this day, however, as Edward is strolling up ahead, entertained by his courtiers. He admires himself in the mirror and stares at his clothes with adoration.

I can see Nicolette rolling her eyes. She grips my arm for me to slow down. When the men are out of earshot, she begins to speak.

"When the king returns, he will bury them in those new clothes. Scotland is in chaos. Your husband is secretly sending an army north," she says casually, eyeing my husband with distaste.

I stare at her. "How do you know this?"

She smiles coyly. "Last night I slept with a member of the War Council."

"He shouldn't be telling secrets in bed."

"Englishmen don't know what a tongue is for."

I stop, shocked at her brazen words. She continues walking, as if nothing had been said. "Ah." I run to catch up to her. "But this Scottish rebel, Wallace. I have heard many things about him... He fights to avenge a woman?"

Nicolette looks around and takes my hand. "I nearly forgot. A magistrate wished to capture him, and found he had a secret lover."

I touch her arm and motion towards the approaching soldiers. She remains silent until they turn a corner in the passage and leave us.

Her eyes gleam brightly. "So he cut the girl's throat to tempt Wallace to fight, and fight he did. Knowing his passion for his lost love, they next plotted to take him by desecrating the graves of his father and brother, and setting an ambush at the grave of his love."

I raise my eyebrows. "And he causes all of this trouble because of a woman?"

"Yes. Wallace fought his way through the trap and carried her body to a secret place." Nicolette sighs. "Now that's love, non?"

I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. Is there such a man in the world? I had not known. "Love?" I whisper as I open my eyes to stare at Nicolette. "I wouldn't know."

**X**

Try as I might, I cannot remove this William Wallace from my mind. I sit alone in my chambers by the open window and stare at the gray winter sky. I breathe in the air, and I can smell the aroma of spring lingering in the breeze. Dusk settles over the sky. A servant lights a candle for me to read by. Though my eyes drink in the words, my mind refuses to comprehend them. William Wallace.

_"Now that's love, non?"_

I sigh and close my eyes. Nicolette once told me that given the chance, I would leave this world. Would I truly leave this world, however? I realize with shock that no, I wouldn't. I live in a bloody world, a world where monarchs kill for sport; where princes indulge in forbidden sexual pleasures; and where war is the norm, not the exception.

But when I think about him, this William Wallace, I wonder. Are there truly men who are more influenced by emotions and justice rather than cold calculation in this world? I have only known cold calculation -- I have been the subject of that calculation all of my life. Even my own father has given me up for profit.

A knock on the door jerks me from my thoughts. I bid whoever it is to enter. Nicolette steps in with a bright smile.

"Are you expecting the prince, tonight, my lady?"

I smiled sadly. "He has had me but two nights ago. He shall not return for another week."

Nicolette closes the door and holds my hand affectionately. "God has willed this, my lady. And I can feel it -- something great is in the future for you. Do not despair."

I squeeze her hand with a smile. "I hope so, Nicolette."

She smiles back up at me.

"So. I suspect you have more news of this William Wallace?"

She nods enthusiastically. Her eyes sparkle with conspiracy.

"Then speak. Tell me everything...for I think he is one of the few decent men in this world. Speak, Nicolette."

* * *

**Author's Arguments**: Okay. A few attempts at explaining what might be controversial to some readers.

**_Number One_**  
I'm sorry if the content regarding homosexuality is viewed in such a bad light. I have no qualms against homosexuality, but we're talking about fourteenth-century England. As an author, I was attempting to express the appropriate emotions that women (especially one who is married to a homosexual) would feel. In this story, Isabelle does not dislike her husband because he is a sodomite, but dislikes him because of his attitude towards her. I do not and have not discriminated against anybody because of their sexuality, and I apologize profusely if I anyone feels that I have.

**_Number Two_**  
As I have said before, I based this entire story on the movie. So basically, the historical facts here are a bit skewed. Please ignore them. :)

**_Number Three_**  
Piers Gaveston was actually suspected of being the clandestine lover of Edward. I decided to use him instead of Philip (the supposed lover of Edward in the movie).

**_Number Four_**  
Characterizations of Edward, Isabelle, Nicolette, and Edward the Longshanks are mostly based on what I have observed in the movie. The rest I left to my imagination. ;)


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